


Helping Hand

by Tish



Category: Miller's Crossing (1990)
Genre: Clothed Sex, Frenemies, Frottage, Hatesex, M/M, Mind Games, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 08:20:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13677879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tish/pseuds/Tish
Summary: A drunken frenemy and a helping hand.





	Helping Hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skazka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skazka/gifts).



“Fuck, what the fuck did you put in my drink?” Tom leaned back against a wall, breathing heavily.

“What, you don't like whiskey in your ice water?” Bernie leaned into him, breathing alcohol fumes that could start a fire with any stray match.

“Tasted like fire water,” Tom's eyes were closed and he dropped his head forward slightly, connecting with a dull thud against Bernie's cheek.

“Come on, you need a bed,” Bernie leered.  
  


“What?” Tom found himself being dragged inside a dingy apartment. In the dark he half-collapsed on an armchair and felt the air in front of him.

Bernie was up in his back in an instant, pressing up close as he picked Tom up. “Waving that ass in the air like that. You're a prick tease, Reagan.”

“I thought I was lying down. What?” Tom struggled through his fog-ridden brain to understand what Bernie had just said, but was increasingly distracted by Bernie grinding into him as he marched him across the floor. He found himself pinned against a wall near an open window, “This isn't a bed.”

“Just waking you up a bit,” Bernie breathed into the back of Tom's neck as he pressed his crotch in closer, starting to grind.

Tom moaned and pushed back as Bernie held on tight to his arms.

“You gonna drill a hole in the wall, Tom?” Bernie hissed. “Let's turn you around.”

“Fuck,” Tom groaned as he dizzily pivoted around, Bernie's erection shoving against his own. His pants felt tight and he gasped slightly.

“Yeah, you do like it. Good man,” Bernie inched closer, the heat between them rising as he rubbed against Tom's crotch.

“You sonofabitch,” Tom's mouth found Bernie's and he kissed, slow and deep.

“And proud of it, you little bitch. I'll have you on your knees tonight,” Bernie's voice was deep and low as he drew his hand in between them, unbuttoning Tom's pants.

Tom moaned loudly as Bernie found his cock, straining against the other man's body.

“You big enough for me, potato eater?” Bernie teased, laughing. “You want me to pound your mouth then that cute ass?” He tugged at Tom's cock with an iron grip.

“Fuck you,” Tom gasped, tottering unsteadily, legs beginning to buckle under him.

“That how you like it, think you can stay up that long?” Bernie was merciless as he squeezed hard on Tom's nutsack.

Tom struggled to stay in focus as is head started to throb. He snarled a half-laugh. “Maybe I'll fucking break you in two, then feed your cock to Mink.”

“Leave Mink outta it,” Bernie growled.

“Had a little tiff? He prefers someone a little bigger?” Tom was laughing now, back into the groove of needling Bernie.

“I'm plenty big and you can feel it,” Bernie found his voice raising. “You'll feel it in the back of your throat in a minute.”

“You think so? Okay,” Tom drawled, relaxing back against the wall.

“Okay, what?” Bernie was flummoxed and took a step back.

Tom pointed down as he slowly slipped to his knees. “Let's see how big that six shooter really is.”

“Fuck!” Bernie unbuttoned himself and was struggling with his undergarments, fumbling in confused arousal. “Don't you be fucking me.”

“Drop 'em,” Tom slurred, clutching a long leg.

“See? I could hang a flag off it,” Bernie preened.

“Yep.”

 

Bernie lurched back against a tall dresser and closed his eyes, drunk as fuck. He felt a tongue against his cock and hissed softly, waiting. A note of alarm slipped from his lips as he felt teeth graze against his cock, then a blood-curdling scream erupted from him as Tom bit down, adding a punch in the balls for luck. Bernie collapsed in a heap, curling into a ball as Tom struggled up and cake-walked away.

He paused in the open doorway and adjusted his hat. “I'll call Mink, he can come over and kiss it better.” With that, he was gone, leaving a whining heap on the floor.

 


End file.
